dwell
In early years of innocence and joy,
And they of lusty prime, whom cares employ
A thousand snares to tangle or to stem.
But more than all, the Sabbath is to them
A day of sweet delight who totter near
The precincts of the grave without a fear--
Yea, rather, with a joyous hope ere long
To leave the weary ranks they now belong,
Of feeble age, and, passing death's dark throng,
Attain the kingdom of eternal song.

BEAUTY ADORNED.

Of late stood Time amid the scenes of life,
With hoary locks and beard of silvery grey,
And furrows deep upon his sage-like brow.
Beside him was a dial of huge size,
Whereby he shewed the minutes as they grew
To hours, and days, and years in silent haste.
He was in wistful mood, and, while I saw,
Did point his finger to the midnight hour.
'Twas in a dream this wondrous scene appeared,
Or in that stupor which is known between
The rule of sleep and wake, when neither claim
The power of holding a supreme command,
Which may be call'd half slumber and half wake.
Morpheus had drawn his stilly presence nigh,
And hush'd all things into a calm profound.
A thousand wondrous thoughts upon my mind,
In order unaccounted, had gone by.
Then as they passed a striking vision came;
'Twas bright and lucent as the early dawn,
Which pays obeisance to a smiling morn.
The stage of life was there before me set;
The curtain rose, and on it I beheld
A maiden fair, the foremost in the act.
Her mien was noble, and she held erect
A form which was in Beauty's garb arrayed.
Her eye was sparkling as the morning dew,
And full of language--full that it o'erflowed.
Her teeth were white and pure as Winter snow;
I saw them peer between her cherry lips,
As these were moving in a gracious smile,
Which traced her features like a silvery stream,
And ran from view adown her dove-like neck.
Her cheek was blooming as a new-blown rose;
A modest flush came o'er it as she stood.
Her voice was sweet like music on the air,
Thrown from a harp touched by a fairy sprite;
And in her look a happy tranquil dwelt.
Bound with the crown of virtue which she wore
Upon her brow (a diadem of gems)
Were the sweet flowers of purity, which gave
A charm more sweet than all the rest to see.
In short, she was perfection's perfect choice,
And Beauty's fairest child of all the group
Of Eve's unnumbered daughters, who abide,
Or have abode, amid these mingled scenes.
'Twas now the season of her noonday prime,
Wherein she might